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These days, I find that I have a hankering for fur, much like one craves for a piece of chocolate cake – totally unnecessary but it can alleviate a longing for that unnameable thing.

I remember when I was in my 20s (yes, yes, the secret is out that I’m in my 30s), my best friend veered towards animal prints and fur in her wardrobe (she was in her 30s). I didn’t get it, I went for minimalist and in a way, my style of dressing was older than hers. Then, poof! I was away from Miami one summer and I started seeing pictures of her on FB wearing heavenly things that I could see myself wearing. So, for awhile we were in sync.

A few years later, living in Montreal, with the hipsters in their colored leggings and French berets sitting lopsided on their heads, I’m at a loss. My Miami style of little dresses and barely there sandals, long, un-hatted flowing hair, does not belong here. But, my New York side, of glittering tops and high heels, is out of place as well.

Without meaning to, (more out of necessity because of the cold and D’s penchant for them) I found myself wearing tights and falling in love with leggings – which is practically blasphemy in Miami. Because why cover up those tanned, fine legs, darlin’?

And out of nowhere, this fur and animal-print longing. If my wallet can only afford it, I would have been off hunting for the perfect fur accessory or to hell with it, a fur trimmed jacket.

Is it because, like my friend, I’m in a stage where I want to assert my being hip at an age where I’m supposed to turn serious and mature? Am I afraid that in favoring a minimalistic style, I would inadvertently demonstrate my un-hipness?

Or maybe I’m going about this the wrong way and just stop questioning. As Coco Chanel once said, “A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous.” If I could choose one, what could be more fabulous than a fur jacket?